


i don’t love him but he’s here and you aren’t

by heavenbarnes



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Age Difference, Bruce Banner Smokes Marijuana, Drug Use, F/M, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Marijuana, Mentions of violence/character death but it's pretty vague, Recreational Drug Use, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:07:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22769038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavenbarnes/pseuds/heavenbarnes
Summary: losing bucky in the snap left you very alone, but bruce was there to keep you company, for however long you needed him
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	i don’t love him but he’s here and you aren’t

Think of what your city would sound like if you removed half of it’s inhabitants. She could confirm for you, it sounds like a graveyard. Those left behind unable to find the strength to make a sound.

The ones that do make noise, it’s like a haunted cry for those they lost. Building after home, after school, after car left empty. Like a dog awaiting it’s owner to return home.

She sat on the fire-escape, looking over the city. The lights still shone, half the cars still rumbled. Her solemn gaze cast its way from building to building. This spot, all the way up here, felt like the only place she could escape.

She couldn’t leave the tower any longer, without being hounded by questions and cries. “Where is my son?” or “Why aren’t you doing more?” or “Do you know what it was like?”

That one stung like nothing other. Did she know what it was like? Did she know what it was like? Dig deeper, keep asking, keep wounding. What they should’ve asked, it’s right there.

“Do you know what it’s like to lose someone to the snap?” Can you imagine how that feels?

She kept her head down when the question was asked, she shut her mouth and pushed through the people. She ignored the sound of unanswered questions, the sound of accusations spat at her.

She didn’t dare answer, answering meant accepting. Accepting that, yes, she did know how it felt. 

She knew exactly how it felt to hear her name leave his lips, like a cry for help. She knew how it felt to turn as quick as she could, in time to see him fall to his knees. She knew how it felt to watch the only person she ever loved turn to dust. She remembers it like it was last night.

“Steve! (Y/N)!” She heard it like a bullet whistling past her ear.

She’d never moved so fast in her life, scrambling to turn towards the source of the noise. She saw him there, gun tumbling towards the earth. Knees following suit.

She opened her mouth to scream, but he was gone before she knew it. She watched the body she’d mapped with hands and mouth, break away like clusters of stars.

How can someone be there one minute and gone the next? 

By the time Steve made it to her, she was a heap of what used to be, only cradled by the ashes of the man she loved.

Her eyes found their way to her Captain’s, silently asking for help? For forgiveness? If you can’t save the one you love, can you save anyone else?

If you can’t save the one you love, can you save anyone else? 

That’s what it felt like those people were asking. There wasn’t sympathy for the Avengers. No, “we’re sorry you lost your loved ones, too.” Only, “if you can’t keep your own safe, how can we trust you with ours?”

So she hides on the fire-escape, this way she is able to watch the city but she can’t be touched by it. She feels safe so high, she only feels safe when she’s high.

The lighter sparks and for a moment it blends in with the other lights, makes her feel less alone. The water bubbles in the confines of the glass, before the smoke makes it’s way deep into her lungs. As she exhales, it looks as if the city rests in the clouds.

If she could’ve picked up her city and hidden it deep within the clouds, she would’ve. She would’ve kept it safe, she would’ve protected the people that looked to her for safety.

Mother’s wouldn’t be without children. Husband’s would be with their husbands, wives with their wives and visa versa. Best friends would see each other again. She could pick the people up, like petals in a storm drain, and set them aside to safety.

She knew at the end of days she’d ask “have I done enough”, and for a while she thought she could answer with a solid confirmation. Now, the lines are muddy and she can only ask “have I done anything at all?”

“Please tell me you aren’t playing the blame game?” A tired voice came from behind her.

She turned her head to the right, resting her chin on her shoulder. She didn’t attempt to keep turning, she knew who it was. Turning back to her front, she brought her lips back to the glass. 

Bruce took silent invitation to join her perch outside. He was never a fan of heights, but he felt safe in her presence. He felt her arm at his side, offering him the glass vessel that was sure to set their minds at ease.

Bruce felt it too, the shame and regret from that day deep in the jungle of Wakanda. All of what they could’ve done better, who they could’ve saved. When Bruce joined the Avengers, he always hoped the pain they suffered wouldn’t translate to the innocent people on the streets.

He looked at her profile, watched her glossy eyes dart to every corner of the large space in front of them. He was taken back to that day, the sounds of her cries, when what was Bucky ran through her fingers like sand. He was taken back to the pain, he didn’t have anyone to feel that way about him, he shouldn’t be here.

The feeling of the smoke taking over his senses helped to loosen his muscles, helped to put him on a different plane. One where he could do something, anything. He could make things better. His physical form was, unfortunately, still existing on a plane where he hadn’t done enough.

Bucky Barnes has a beautiful girl who spends every waking moment reliving the moment he was taken from her.

Bruce Banner has a cold side to his bed and his own right hand.

Don’t tell him that everything happens for a reason. He shouldn’t be here.

“Do you think they’ll ever forgive us for everything we didn’t do?” She asked quietly, taking the glass back into her hands.

“If we can find a way to do it, then I suppose they will.”

“Do you think we’ll find a way to do it?”

“One where we all come out the other side? It’s slim but not impossible.”

“I know I joined this team with guaranteed martyrdom.”

Bruce let her words sink in as they passed the smoke back and fourth. She isn’t supposed to know how bad things get, yet. She is supposed to dream of weddings, white pickets, backyard barbecues. 

Instead she dreams of dying, for a good cause, to see him again. She knows better than anyone, how bad it gets, how bad it hurts. She knows that if she gets any salvation, if she catches any break, it’ll only be from the sweet release of-

“Death isn’t an option, nobody dies and we bring the dusted back.” The herb in his hands made him feel superhuman, more than he already was.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

She looked at him, for the first time since he came out here, she looked into his eyes. They looked like her own, a little red, just a bit watered. 

“I admire your optimism.”

“And I admire your durability.”

She took in a deep breath, one that wasn’t to inhale smoke this time. They’d passed it back and fourth so many times, it was getting to the end of the tether.

“What do I have left if not an inch of strength?”

“Half a team that needs you more than you give yourself credit for.”

She continued to gaze into him, past his eyes and into him. She saw a different pain in him. She’d been analyzing her own so long, she forgot what to look for in the others. She felt the heaviness in her own eyelids, and then she felt the need to move.

To move different, to roll about someone else’s sadness, growing tired of her own. She was so accustomed to her own sadness, she was crawling in her skin. She wanted nothing more than to put on someone else’s, live different for a moment.

So when she had Bruce’s hands in her own, on the plush of her carpet, she felt different. She felt as if she’d stepped out of her own bones, to jump his. She felt at home in his arms, just a home she hadn’t been to for a while.

Like opening your front door when you’ve been somewhere else for a while. It was going to take some time for this to start feeling normal. And how much time did she have? Was she willing to give?

With the pull of her eyelids, she felt the pull towards him. The angels telling her to rest her laurels with him. To step out of the ashes belonging to another, to rise as the phoenix here and with this man.

This man, with the olive skin that bares lines of success and failure. The man, with the rough hands from solving the worlds mysteries. The man, who smells like knowing your worth and knowing your horror.

The man who knows too much.

The devil lies in knowing the color that kills, the color he know all too well how to turn. Lies in the 7 PHDs, that each teach him what to be afraid of. Lies in knowing the outcome of impending actions, but not running from them.

He brought her down to the ground with them, forgoing the bed, back to floor to lay with the dogs. He knew how to run with the wolves, and he knew what they’d do to him if he stayed too long.

Thankfully the smoke in his brain was able to wrap his thoughts in a warm towel, bundle them up and deliver them to the back corner of his brain for the time being. He had company, and she smelt like flowers and freshly washed clothes. She was real and she needed attention.

So joining their two bodies at the waist wasn’t in need of debate. It seemed the most righteous thing they could do at the time. She sat a top him, and from the angle, the light above her head was nothing more than a golden halo. 

Did that mean she was finally glorious, and without sin? Or did the universe know more about martyrdom than Bruce had realized.

He had to find himself deep within her, she held the secrets and he couldn’t get deep enough. His arms wrapped around her back, bringing her chest flush to his. He thrust his hips up, finding any chance to become one with her.

She was the fountain in which you got penance, the vessel to drain all unjust actions from our world. Bruce was able to bathe in her tide, was he as grateful as he could be?

No, which was why he turned their bodies, laying her back gently against the carpet. Her eyes slowly opened, reaching out for the man above her. Bruce brought a hand to her soft skin, rolled it about in his palm. Would he always remember how delicate she felt?

She looked pure again, like a girl who didn’t know how it felt to have her joy snatched straight from her. She looked blissfully unaware of life’s cruelties. Bruce got off on the idea that she might’ve been whole again.

But she wasn’t, which was why she was full of him. With each rock of his hips into hers, every spark that ignited from the friction between them, she was having a real void filled with false hope.

At least the cries from her mouth were real. The way she said his name was undoubtedly real as it coiled up inside his stomach. Her fingers sliding up his chest, nestling in the thick hair, that was about the most reality Bruce had experienced in a while.

He watched his mind wander away from him, escorted on the purest white cloud. His consciousness went right after it, eager as anything to see where the smoke of the night could take him.

To Bucky, he was loudest that night. He was louder than her moans. Louder than Bruce’s deep breaths with each thrust. He was louder than the blood rushing in their eyes.

How did Bucky hold her when they made love? Cause that was what they did, they made love and it wasn’t on the floor only after she’d had enough smoke to sedate upstate New York.

How did Bucky fuck her? Did he lift her hips to ensure it was the most pleasure she could receive? Did he run his hands the length of her body to remember what she felt like? 

How did Bucky speak to her? He must’ve known the exact things to say, when to speak, how to speak. He would’ve made more of an impression than Bruce is.

But it seems to be doing the trick, the way she brings her arms to his back. Her half-crescent nails sinking into the tight muscle of his shoulders. Her lips next to his ear, as she whines his name.

And he feels the ultimate tide washing over him. It came in the form of her orgasm finally reaching the entirety of her, cascading onto him. He caught the bug, feeling the heat draining from him as he lurched forward.

Like the ghost moving through him, in the moment he had become Bucky. He knew how it felt to take the blessing on the floor of a dimly lit bedroom. 

As they lay together, coming to their own conclusions, they chose to forfeit thinking. It was better to stay in a mindless state, rather than accept what they’d come to realize.

She was the type to remember forever, she might get by, but she’ll be there when you get back.

He was the type to help you get back, so you can slot right back in where he longed to belong.


End file.
